One that Got Away
by N7withpride
Summary: They were inseparable, childhood best friends. Then she moved and he disappeared. It took years for them to meet again, yet now they have. How much have they changed in the five years they were separated, and is their bond strong enough to survive the events of their lives? One thing's for sure, Kara will need all the help she can get if she wants her Oliver back from darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello readers! With the crisis going on, I just felt like expirementing with an AU in my head for a while now. I have always loved the Kara and Oliver ship, light and dark mixing is always just a fun concept to me. This is completely AU, but I must admit to not watching the actual Supergirl show, so please be honest if I'm doing the characters justice as this goes on! I know only what I've read in stories and seen in crossover episodes. Please enjoy and review!**

* * *

Nightfall had just begun to creep on the horizon, casting its shadow over National City. The city was bustling, despite the late hour, honking horns car engines sounding over the light rainfall that covered the streets.

Three figures sat in a black van, parked just outside of a large warehouse. The building showed the typical signs of abandonment, wear and tear evident even from outside its walls. The three figures, two male and one female, sat with weapons in their hands.

"Alright team, it's time. Weapons free, people, top priority are those prisoners. Stick to the plan, be quick and precise, and bring these men back to their families," one of the men, a large and well-built African American male, spoke. He spoke with authority, a cold and serious tone. He spoke like a soldier.

The other two nodded, stepping out the side of the van. Oliver held his handgun in his hands, storming across the street and heading towards the right side of the warehouse. He turned, seeing the male, John Diggle, and the female, Alex Danvers, get to their breaching positions.

The plan was simple: Oliver would sneak in from the roof and free the agents taken prisoner, while Diggle and Alex would engage with the Triad forces inside and take them out.

ARGUS, the organization they all worked for, was a top-secret government organization tasked with taking out…problematic groups of people both at home and abroad. The organization had been waging a silent and deadly war against the National City branch of the Chinese Triad when a few agents got careless, and the Chinese took them prisoner.

Oliver, Diggle, and Danvers were there to get them back. They don't negotiate with criminals.

Oliver climbed up the stairs of the fire escape, keeping to the shadows. His steps made no sound as he ascended. There was a guard stationed there, but Oliver was able to take him by surprise. He vaulted over a railing, kicking the man in the chest before pistol whipping him in the side of the head. He then fired off two silenced rounds into the man's chest and head.

"In position," Oliver whispered over comms.  
"Affirmative. Operation Smash and Grab is a go. Get those men out of there, Arrow," Diggle said over comms. Oliver mentally switched into agent mode. Digg using his call sign meant it was time for him to use theirs, Digg being Spartan and Danvers being Amazon.

Oliver's boot collided with the door, sending it slamming open. As soon as he stepped inside he quickly scanned the area. It was as if time slowed, as he carefully looked around to locate the hostages. He saw a room in the back of the floor he was on, with several people sitting in chains. He counted the number of guards in his way, 7, and readied a plan of attack.

In a flash, he was on the move. He ignored the sounds of combat, the blood and the Chinese voice swearing and bullets, as he focused on his target. He ran forward, slamming his shoulder into a triad guard to knock him over. He immediately went on the move again, firing two shots and killing two of the guards.

A bullet flew at him, but he was prepared as he rolled under it, readying his gun to take down the guard who shot him. He was a few feet away from the room with the hostages, but he still had to neutralize the other three guards in his way. He moved like a man possessed, running forward and slamming his gun into one of the three guards faces. Turning on his heel, he sent a vicious spinning kick to another's face to knock him down, before spinning into a crouch and shooting two shots at the last guard.

Oliver opened the door, seeing a triad guard holding one of the hostages as a human shield. He began speaking rapidly in Chinese, in a threatening tone. Oliver aimed at the man, unphased, eyes subtly looking around for anything he could use to gain the upper hand in this standoff.

Finally, he found it. Oliver quickly fired a shot, it connecting with a fire extinguisher behind him. The momentary distraction was all the time he needed to close the gap, sharply elbowing the triad guard in the face to knock him out. He looked at his fellow agent and nodded, cutting them all free.

"Thank you, so much," one of the agents ran up to him. "I thought it was over. My wife…my son…"

"You'll see them soon," Oliver offered, in small consolation. His hand drifted to his neck, and the arrowhead pendant around his neck. He shot off a tiny grin, before escorting them out of the room. At this time John and Alex had managed to take out of the Triad in the building.

"Building is clear," Diggle called out, as he ascended the stairs. "Van's outside. We're going back to ARGUS headquarters for debrief, but you'll be home soon."

The ride back to ARGUS was quiet. This was fine; hell, Oliver preferred the quiet. He spent too long in the quiet, where noise meant trouble. Gone were the days where Oliver Queen ran around filling pool with beer and going to loud parties. That boy died in Russia. His hand reached once again the pendant on his neck, the only physical reminder he carried of he man he was before.

* * *

_The sky was covered in clouds, light gray and ugly. A gentle rain fell, fitting given the current situation. _

_ Kara was moving. His best friend, the girl he told everything to. She gave him advice, could always cheer him up with a smile and a hug, didn't judge him for his mistakes, and made him feel…like him. He wasn't just Oliver Queen, rich popular kid everyone wanted to be friends with for his money. He was Oliver. And that was so important to him._

_ But now she had to go. Move to National City halfway across the country, where he would probably barely see her if at all, and he was alone. No more late night ice cream when his parents were pissed at him from another mistake. No more Christmas' where they drove around Star City looking at all the decorations and lights. No more nights on the roof of Queen mansion laughing and talking about their future. _

_ He was trying to be strong, really he was. Because this wasn't about him. Kara lost her parents, she needed to go somewhere. Her parents sent her with distant relatives. _

_ He wanted to be happy for her, that she had a place to go and was gonna be okay. But he couldn't because she was gonna be okay without him. So, he avoided her. Avoided her for about a week because of it. It killed him, but he hoped it would make the pain of her leaving go away._

_ It didn't work, but he wasn't willing to admit that to himself just yet. The last day, though, she didn't let him avoid her. _

_ The doorbell to Queen mansion rang, echoing through the large household._

_ "Oliver, can you get the door?" his mom called out._

_ "Yeah, mom," he replied, already almost there. He opened it, and was face to face with Kara Danvers and two pints of cookies and cream ice cream. "Kara?"_

_ "Yeah," she replied, tears in her eyes. "I leave early tomorrow morning. I wanted to say goodbye and spend my last day here with my best friend. Even if he's been an asshole lately."_

_ Oliver stood, silent, before he broke, giving Kara the biggest hug of her life. "I'm sorry," he whispered, letting some tears fall too. "I'm so sorry."_

_ They just stood in the doorway for what felt like years, holding eachother, before a cough from behind him made him split from her and turn to see his mother. _

_ "Let our guest in the house, Oliver," she chided gently. "Oh, Kara, we are going to miss you terribly. But wherever you end up, you are going to soar young lady. And know you are always welcome here."  
"Thank you, Mrs. Queen," Kara smiled at her. _

_ "Now you two spend today together. Sadly we already ate lunch but dinner will be ready at 6."  
They ran upstairs, finding their spot on the roof. They sat in silence, enjoying their ice cream and the company._

_ "Why were you avoiding me?" Kara finally broke the silence, and Oliver looked away in shame._

_ "I…I'm an idiot. When I found out you were moving, leaving, it broke my heart. You're my best friend, and finding out you weren't gonna be around anymore hurt. A lot. So, instead of enjoying every second I had left, instead I ran away, hoping that if I stopped talking to you as often it would hurt less. It was stupid, and I am so sorry. I just…I'm gonna miss you so much."_

_ She stared at him, before hugging him tightly. "I forgive you," she whispered to him. "I forgive you. And I'm gonna miss you too. So much. I…care about you Ollie."_

_ "Kara, you…thanks for making me feel like I wasn't alone. You'll always be my hero, my super girl. Don't forget about me out in National City, okay?"_

_ "Never," Kara promised. She then reached into her pocket, pulling out a small box. "I got you something."_

_ He stared at her in shock. "Kara, you didn't have to…"_

_ She shushed him, shaking her head. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to. Open it."_

_ He obliged her, opening the box. Inside was a pendant, a green arrowhead. "I know you love the color green, and I saw it, and it was kinda cheesy but I though an arrow would be perfect cause it's like it's pointing back to me. If you don't like it you can return it I left the receipt in the.."  
He didn't let her finish, closing the distance and planting a kiss on her lips. He had wanted to do that for so long, but never took the chance. He was afraid, because if she didn't feel the same it meant their friendship was at risk. And he couldn't take the risk of her leaving him. But now? He needed her to know, know how he felt and how much he cared._

* * *

Oliver snapped himself back to reality, as he still stared at the most meaningful gift he ever got. He let himself wonder if she was still here, in National City, before shaking his head. No way. She could be anywhere, and if even she didn't leave it's not like he could ever find her again. National City is a big place.

If he even wanted her to see him again…

He wasn't the guy she remembered. Not even close, not anymore. He was different, changed, morphed into a weapon in the darkness by five years of hell. And Kara, she was the epitome of light. A bouncing bubble of positivity and kindness and she didn't deserve to have him ruin that.

No, he was meant to be alone. It was better for everyone that way.

The van pulled to an abrupt stop, taking Oliver out of his mind and back into the real world. Diggle shot him a knowing look from the passenger seat, before unbuckling. "Here's our stop, ladies and gentlemen. We'll have a quick debrief and then you all get to go home for some well deserved time off."

Oliver was the last to leave, and as he stepped out Diggle approached him. "You okay man? You only play with that necklace when you're upset."

John Diggle was the best thing that happened to Oliver since he left Star City. Dig found him at his weakest: emotional, vulnerable, bleeding out and left for dead. He gave him a purpose, a goal, and saved his life. Figuratively and literally.

Diggle was a friend, a mentor, and a brother. He, Oliver, and Alex, they had a bond that just couldn't be broken. The bond of soldiers, fighting a war together side by side. The bond of those who had lost one of their own, and had to keep fighting cause that's what he would have wanted.

"Yeah," Oliver replied, after a moment of silence. "This time of year is hard for me."

It was the holiday season, Christmas was in full swing at every store and every other place in the country. Brightly colored Christmas lights lit up the night sky, ads for toys and games and other gift ideas were the only thing you could hear on the radio, other than the music of the holiday itself.

"I get that, man," Digg sent him a soft smile and pat him on the shoulder. "Lyla and I would love to have you for Christmas in Starling City, if you want to come. Hell, she's threatening to drag you there herself one of these years."

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. "I'll think about it, man. You know how I feel about Starling…"

"I understand. I think it'll do you good to go home, but only when you're ready. Push yourself too hard and it'll only do more damage."

"Thanks man," he smiled, a genuine smile. Oliver Queen didn't smile big. He wasn't one of those people who opened their whole mouth a smile so bright it lit up a room. When he truly smiled, it was small. The corners of his mouth would inch slightly up, his blue eyes would just slightly get brighter. It was almost hard to notice a change, but if you were paying attention you'd see it.

"No need to thank me, Oliver," Digg replied as he walked into headquarters. "You're family."

As Oliver and Digg stepped into the base, they were met by Alex, the third member of their little family. "There you two are. Now that the bromance is over, my family's having dinner tonight. My sister just got back in for winter break at her university and we're having dinner to celebrate and dad told me to invite you guys."

"Really?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. He was genuinely shocked at that, he had never even met the Danvers Patriarch.

"Yep," she smirked. "And he told me 'not to take no for an answer.' You don't want to disappoint my dad, do you?" She looked at them, Oliver more so, crossing her arms.

He stared at her, thinking through his options. For one, this was an incredibly generous offer. It was rare he was offered a night to spend time with other people, and part of him missed it desperately. But, on the other hand, he wasn't exactly fun to be around. He was dark, dangerous, not someone that you want to have at a dinner party.

"I'll be there," Diggle sent her a smile, and looked at Oliver. "Come on, man, it's one night. And it's not like you won't be around people who get it. Jeremiah worked here too, remember?"

With that, he relented. "Alright. I'll be there."

Alex laughed, punching him on the shoulder as she walked away. "See ya at 7!"

Oliver shook his head, silently wondering what the hell he just got himself into.

* * *

**Don't forget to leave a review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello reader! This chapter is an experiment. I am unsure how to tackle this story from a POV sense, whether to stick with Oliver's POV only or to switch off. So, in this chapter I change POVs around throughout the chapter. I've never tried something like this before, please feel free to give any feedback you have!**

* * *

It has been a well-established truth that Kara Danvers was lady luck's personal punching bag, especially when it came to punctuality. Once again, Kara was gonna be late to something important.

Of all the times for a delayed flight, it just had to be when Kara finally got a chance to visit home from Metropolis University. Between her internship at the Daily Planet and finishing up her senior year of classes, she barely got any time to see her family, and now she was going to be late. Again.

Practically sprinting out of the airport, Kara desperately scanned for some method of transportation out of this airport. Eventually she got one, sliding inside the back seat. She panted, catching her breath from the Olympic sprint she just had to do.

"How was your day ma'am?" the driver asked as they pulled out onto the street.

She was just going to say she was good and leave it at that, like most people. She really was. But then she realized it would by lying, and she was always taught not to lie to people cause that's rude. And he asked, right?

So, she told him. Told him about how she slept through her alarm because she stayed out way too late at her friend Iris' end of the year bash, and how her uber driver to the Metropolis airport ignored all her attempts at conversation (he got a four star review anyway because she didn't have the heart to rude about it) and how the Starbucks worker called her Carla which normally wouldn't annoy her but today had already been rough and how her flight got delayed and how the jerk kid behind her wouldn't stop kicking her seat and it was making her so mad but you can't just yell at a kid because anyone who does that is automatically the bad guy (or girl in her case) and…

She took a breath, having rambled on for way longer than she realized because, as she was about to start speaking again the driver turned to her and went "I was just being polite ma'am. But, if it's no trouble, can I please have five minutes of quiet?"

Wow, that was rude, she couldn't possibly have been talking for THAT long…

Then she checked the clock. 7. She had just talked for fifteen minutes straight without taking a breath.

What the hell was wrong with her?

* * *

What the hell was wrong with him? He questioned himself (for the fifth time that day) as he stood outside the Danvers apartment, running his hands through his short dirty blonde hair. He hadn't been to a family dinner in years, and even before his five years away from home he never liked them much anyway.

He shook his head, focusing and taking a deep breath, before knocking on the door. His hands slid comfortably into the pockets of his brown leather jacket, as he opted for a less formal and more casual look.

After a bit less than a minute, the door opened to reveal a larger man with deep brown hair. He smiled at him, a warm smile that eased some of the tension in his body. "Ah, Oliver, welcome. We're so glad you could make it. Please, come in!"

Oliver nodded, and stepped into the apartment. The space wasn't too large, but the interior design made it feel warm and open. To his immediate left there was a couch, table, and TV on the wall over a shelf. There were a few scattered bookshelves and other decorations. There were dozens of picture frames scattered around on different shelves or on places on the wall.

"You have a nice home, Mr. Danvers," Oliver commented, unsure of what else to say. He wasn't a master of small talk.

"Please, call me Jeremiah," the man replied. "Thank you. I must confess, Eliza did all the designing. I just did as I was told!"

The man laughed, and Oliver let out a small chuckle. "I understand. My mother was extremely meticulous with decorating. Dad practically never came home during the holidays, lest he feel mom's wrath if he messed something up."

Jeremiah grinned at that, showing the young man around the space. Oliver's eyes were drawn to all the pictures, mostly of family. There was a picture of Alex graduating, one of Alex with her parents, and one shot of four. Oliver scanned it quickly, it was Alex, Eliza, Jeremiah, and a fourth girl. Looking at her, she seemed so familiar. She had long blonde hair, bright and golden like rays of sunlight. She wore a thick pair of glasses, hiding eyes that shone as blue as the sky. Eyes that he could swear he recognized.

"As you can see, we take family seriously. These girls, they're our lives. It's the thing about being a parent, the second they show up in this world they become the most important thing in your life." Jeremiah pat him on the shoulder.

"Kara just called, said she was running late but she should be here soon," He heard Alex sound from the kitchen, and she stepped out to see Oliver standing with her dad. "Oliver, good to see you. And early, too!"

Oliver smirked at her. "Had nothing else to do and traffic was surprisingly light."

"Well good, means you can help out," Alex beckoned him over, and he followed.

"You know, I'm not very good at anything involving the kitchen," he commented dryly.

"Believe me, I know. But your pack mule ass can definitely handle carrying shit to the table, right?"  
"Language, Alex," chided a gentle voice, as Oliver finally met the Danvers matriarch. She smiled at him. "Nice to meet you Oliver, Alex has talked about you quite a bit."

"Has she?" Oliver questioned, looking at her. "I hope only good things."  
"Mostly," Eliza replied, setting down one of the dishes she was carrying to shake his hand. "Eliza Danvers."  
"Nice to meet you, ma'am," Oliver replied cordially. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Actually…" Eliza trailed off. "There is one thing."

* * *

At least one thing went right on this trip from hell. The last five minutes of the drive, although awkwardly silent, were smooth and she finally made it. Five minutes late. To her own dinner celebration. She shook her head as she paid for her cab and jumped out, heading into the building. She could barely contain her excitement. She hadn't seen her family since early October, way too long for her tastes. Her flight got cancelled for Thanksgiving due to a blizzard and so she spent Thanksgiving with Clark and Lois.

The ding of an elevator opening echoed in the silent lobby, and Kara practically flew into it, pressing her parents floor and silently egging on the elevator doors to close faster. Just as they began to close, a voice called out, a deep baritone. "Hold the elevator!" She reacted immediately, holding her hand out to stop it from closing as an incredibly large man slipped inside, carrying a dish wrapped in tin foil.

"Thanks, running a bit late," he chuckled. "Kids. Best and worst thing that can happen to you."

"What floor ya heading to?" She replied warmly, as she was the one standing by the door buttons.  
"Ten," he replied with a small smile.

"Woah, same here!" she replied. "Visiting my parents for the holidays."

He nodded at that. "Funny, I was invited to a dinner to celebrate a friend's kid coming home. Your last name Danvers?"  
"Yeah," she replied. "Kara."

"John Diggle," he greeted with a smile. "I would shake your hand but…" He gestured his head towards the two pies in his hands.

"It's okay! Do you work with Alex?"

"Yep," he nodded. "One of the best people I've ever worked with, and a good friend."

The elevator door opened, and Diggle gestured for her to exit first.

* * *

"Oliver, would you like anything to drink?" Eliza asked, after the four had managed to get the table all set up.

"A water, please," Oliver replied. Drinking didn't have nearly the same appeal it had in his younger years, and now he rarely partook unless he really needed to. And never in an environment he didn't know.

He didn't think of the Danvers family as a threat, of course, but he also didn't like to be unprepared.

"Sure you don't want something alittle stronger?" Jeremiah questioned. "I got a mean bottle of Tennessee whiskey I've been itching to open up."

"Sorry, sir, I drank enough in my younger years to tide me over for a while," he joked, and Jeremiah laughed.

"Haven't we all, son," he shook his head with a grin. "Suit yourself."

The family heard a knock on the door, and Oliver reacted immediately, slightly flinching as his eyes darted to the source of the noise.

Sometimes Oliver wished he could turn his constant vigilance off, to relax or let loose. Unfortunately, years of hell drilled it into his head. Always ready, always vigilant, head on a swivel, it's how he stayed alive. Easing into a part of life where his life wasn't always in danger, well…he wasn't used to it yet.

He had gotten good at masking it, however. Most people could never notice the subtle twitch, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the darting of his pupils back and forth like a searchlight scanning for intruders.

Jeremiah, however, noticed. It makes sense, he was a former ARGUS agent as well. A scientist, but still. He knew the life. "It's okay, son, you're safe here," he whispered, so only Oliver could hear the words. He did feel reassured, if only slightly. But instincts were hard to resist, somedays it felt impossible. Like the switch was glued on at all times and no matter how hard he pulled the glue was too strong.

This was a mistake. He knew it from the moment he received the invitation. He was too…him. All he could do was ruin a fun evening. As his brain worked overtime to think of a polite excuse to leave, Alex opened the door to reveal John Diggle carrying two trays in his hands, and the blonde from the photo.

"Kara!" Alex exclaimed, hugging the blonde girl.

"Kara…" he muttered to himself. Suddenly, like a train racing into station, it all clicked in his mind. The blonde in the picture, with the eyes he was certain he knew. It wasn't just a coincidence, the last name. This was Kara Danvers. HIS Kara Danvers. His super girl.

"Kara?" He said louder, as the two best friends locked eyes for the first time in seven years.

* * *

"Oliver?" the two had said eachother's names in unison, both staring eachother dead in the eyes. Neither one broke eye contact. She couldn't believe this, it couldn't be him. Not after all these years. How…why…

She stared, not breaking eye contact. She couldn't, couldn't risk looking away and seeing he wasn't there. That this was a dream, an illusion, a cruel prank to add to an already royally sucky day.

The room had turned deathly silent, like a standoff in those western movies Mon-El used to make her watch. Nobody knew how to react, or what the hell was even going on.

"Hey," he whispered, and that voice. Yep, it was him, no question, no doubt. She wasted no time closing the distance, running at him and leaping into his arms in a violent hug. He sharply took breath in, feeling tense underneath her. It took him a minute, but eventually he returned the embrace.

She stood there, holding on as tight as she could because it was _Oliver _and she hadn't seen him in so long and nobody had and she missed him so much and if she let go she was scared he'd leave again and she didn't want that to happen. She couldn't handle it, if she were being honest.

Someone cleared their throat, and all of a sudden she remembered that there were other people here, and she very quickly broke the hug, face bright red. "Sorry, um…Oliver and I are.."

* * *

"Old friends," he replied smoothly. His brain was running a thousand miles a minute, unable to process what just happened. He couldn't shake the dozens of questions to which he had no answers to. How didn't he catch the last name? How didn't he recognize her in the pictures? What're the chances that he happens to work with the adopted sister of his former best friend? Why wasn't she pissed at him? Why had she hugged him? Why did she still _care?_

His piercing blue eyes finally took time to scan the room, scanning the facial reactions of the people in the room. Diggle stared, mostly impassive, with his eyebrows raised. Alex's eyes were practically flying out of her skull. Jeremiah just looked confused, where Eliza just flashed a knowing smile.

"So, you ARE Oliver Queen?" She asked him, and it was his turn to let his eyes leave his head in shock.

"You…knew?" Oliver questioned the Danvers mother with shock. How had she…?  
"I suspected. Oliver Queen disappears and is presumed dead, then Alex comes in two years later talking about her new partner named Oliver who never talks about himself. Then, when you walked in, I recognized your eyes from the tabloids."

Alex raised her eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. "What? We all have our guilty pleasures. Anyway, the way Kara reacted confirmed it. You're our daughters long lost best friend she never shut up about."

Oliver stared at the floor, shaking his head. It was too much. Diggle was the only one who was supposed to know his true identity, only one he trusted with it. Now, they all knew. Their eyes, particularly Alex's were staring into his soul and it was too much and suddenly he couldn't breathe. It was like someone wrapped a hand around his throat and kept squeezing.

"I have to go," he mumbled and quickly walked out of the suddenly cramped apartment.

* * *

Kara wasn't far behind him. She had let him go once, and it almost broke her. It took her years to be okay after Oliver disappeared. She wasn't ready to let him go, not a chance.

"Oliver, wait!" she called down the hall, chasing after him. He kept walking, head down as he stormed to the elevator. "Please, talk to me Ollie! Don't leave! Not again…" the last part had barely been above a whisper, but somehow he heard it. It made him stop, and he turned to her, eyes red as if he were fighting back tears.

"Kara, I…" he began, but shook his head. She looked at him, staring into his eyes, and she could see the war inside of him. Instead of speaking, he reached into his shirt and pulled a pendant out. A green arrow.

* * *

"I kept it," he croaked out, shaking his head and wiping his eyes. _Emotions make you weak_, a distinctly Russian voice whispered in the back of his head. He couldn't be vulnerable, he hurt so much he couldn't let it happen again.

Without saying a word, she pulled him into another embrace just holding him tight. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, so lightly he doubted she could even hear it.

"Oliver," she said, calmly and soothingly. "I forgive you. I just want to understand. I understand not wanting to talk after what happened to your dad, but five years?"

He broke the embrace, staring into her eyes. Eyes he could get lost in forever, like a never-ending ocean that he could float in forever. "I wanted to. God, Kara, I wanted to, but…"

_In, out, in, out, he repeated in his head. Trying to control his breathing. But no matter how much he tried, how many hundred times he repeated the mantra in his mind, it wasn't helping. He was suffocating, drowning on dry land with no way out of the depths. _

_His dad was gone. Dead. He would never see him again. Oh god, he died thinking he hated him…_

_It can't be real, it can't be. It's just a bad dream, a prank, a practical joke. This wasn't real, it was ridiculous. His dad was Robert fucking Queen, he couldn't die like that. Not in a car accident. _

_The drywall broke easily under his head, shards piercing the skin in his hands. He felt nothing, nothing but the feeling of fresh blood dripping down his hands, flowing like several parallel rivers down his arm. Yeah, there was blood on his hands alright. His dad wouldn't have even been out on the road had they not gotten into that fight…_

_He felt a buzzing in his pocket, and pulled his arm out of his wall to fumble with his pocket for his phone. He looked down at the caller ID. _

_Kara. His finger hovered over the answer button, warring over whether or not to press it. He wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice, to hear her tell him everything would be okay. _

_But it wasn't. It wasn't okay. It was _his _fault, it wasn't okay. He wasn't sure it was ever going to be. He didn't deserve okay. Not after he killed his dad. So he pressed decline, before tossing the phone out his window._

"Oliver," she shook her head, not breaking eye contact. "What happened is not your fault. Never has been, never will be. So please, come back inside with me. Talk to us. Not a soul in that room is going to judge you for anything."

"You don't know that," he mumbled, and she shook her head.

"When was the last time I was ever wrong, Queen?" She teased, smirking and placing both her hands on her hips exaggeratedly.

A small smile formed on his lips, and he nodded. "Fair point. I could never win an argument with you."

She grinned triumphantly, before reaching out inside. "Now, come on. You don't have to talk about anything you aren't ready to. But, for me, come back inside. You don't have to run anymore.

He hesitated, mulling over her words. He had been running for five years of his life. Running from his mistakes, his failures, himself. He was tired. It was time to stop running, and face it. So he took her hand. And for a split second, he felt just a little bit safe.

* * *

**Keep the reviews coming, they're greatly appreciated! **


	3. Chapter 3

**I have been loving this story, and the feedback I've been getting. So, here is the next chapter!**

* * *

The cushions of the couch sank under him as he shifted, rigid and tense. His subconscious prevent him from relaxing, like he would sink into the cushions themselves and down into the abyss if he even slightly relaxed his body. The glass in his hands felt heavy, like he was holding in anchor in the palm of his hands.

Oliver darted his eyes to the door of the apartment. It would be easy to get out, he had a clear shot at it.

This wasn't what he does. He didn't talk_, _he didn't sit down with people and explain how he felt or why he did what he did. He didn't know how, or what to say, or where to start, or why he couldn't stop shaking or why he felt his heart in his head.

He looked around, scanning the faces in front of him. The faces of warmth, of comfort, of understanding, of acceptance. They didn't know what they were signing up for. Weren't prepared for what they were about to hear, not by a long shot. When they realized who he was those looks would go away. The parents would look at him in horror, Alex would kick him out, Kara would pull the hand that hasn't left his since the hallway out of his in horror.

He wasn't sure he could handle that, but he didn't have much of a choice. The situation was out of his control now. He had to talk, to give them something, or risk losing everything. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd come to rely on Digg and Alex. It was his little family. And he thrived on it, needed it.

_Attachments are a weakness, Kapiushon, _a Russian voiced whispered in his head.

"Oliver," Kara's gentle voice sounded, barely above a whisper. "It's okay. I promise, I'm right here. You can talk to us, as much or as little as you want."

Oliver took a deep breath. It was time. "I'm sure most of you heard about my dad, Robert Queen. Well, five years ago he died. Car crash. And it was my fault," He looked away, down into the glass of Tennessee Whiskey that Jeremiah knowingly opened up after what happened. "It was the night of a stupid party I was throwing, celebrating our graduation." He spat those words out with venom, all the anger and rage he felt at the stupid kid he was all out on full display. "I was pissed off at the type of beer dad bought, it wasn't what I wanted. We got into it, bad, screaming at eachother so loud I'm sure everyone in the house heard it. And he stormed out. Two hours later I found out he was dead. And it's my fault…"

He trailed off, downing the rest of the alcohol in the cup. It burned as it went down his throat, and he hoped the burn in his throat would distract himself from the burning in his heart. He shook his head, trying his hardest to hold back the tears in his eyes. "That day I threw my phone out my window, threw some clothes in a bag, and walked away. From all of it. Didn't even say goodbye…" he shook his head, sighing. "I went to Europe, spent…I don't even know how long there. I was rarely sober. I ended up in Russia, out of money and…desperate. Diggle found me, brought me to ARGUS. Gave me a purpose, a mission, and so here I am."

His eyes drifted up to Diggle, and they shared a knowing look. This wasn't the whole story; they both knew that. But this…it was all he could share right now. Maybe all he could share ever. Without saying a word to eachother, they reached an understanding. Digg knew he was telling a half truth, and he'd never tell a soul, never call him on it.

That wasn't all he ended up with in Russia…

"I'm sorry for lying, Alex," Oliver looked up at her, staring into her shocked expression with the most strength he could muster. "It had nothing to do with trust, not entirely. Maybe at first, I didn't trust you with my true name, my true situation. But as time went on, as we worked together…I was afraid. Of the way you'd see me, if you'd hate me for who I was. The friendship, the family I had with you two…I was too afraid to lose it to be honest."

The room fell still. The silence filled the room, thick enough that everyone in the room could feel it. This was it, the moment Oliver faced the consequences of his actions. His mistakes. His failures. He told himself he was better off alone, he shouldn't have made the mistake of attaching to people…

"I forgive you."

…What? That was impossible. He did a double take, breath hitching in his throat.

"Oliver, I forgive you," she said again, firmer this time. "In our line of work, trust is…not easy. And losing that trust is terrifying. I wish you had told me, but I get it. You've been through hell, you don't just walk away from that. Oliver, you've saved my life more times than I can count. You and Dig are part of my family, no matter what. So, you aren't getting rid of me. No chance in hell."

He was at a loss for words. This was the opposite of what he expected. Ostracism, hatred, disgust, he was expecting all of this. But…forgiveness? Did he truly deserve that?

"Young man, you've been through a crucible. Most believe there are two types of people who go into a crucible. The ones who become stronger from the experience and survive it, and the ones who die. But there's a third type. The ones who learn to love the fire and choose to stay in their crucible because it's easier to embrace the pain when it's all you know anymore."

It felt like an anvil was just dropped on his chest. Someone who just met him that night was able to diagnose his situation with a painful amount of accuracy. He was living in the pain. No, not living. Surviving.

"We'll be right here, to pull you from that fire Oliver. You're part of the family now," Kara gave him a gentle smile. "For me, you always were."

"I don't deserve this," he whispered, shaking his head. "I don't deserve your understanding, forgiveness."  
"But you've got it, anyway," Diggle countered with a smile. "Oliver, you don't have to just survive anymore. Let us help you live again."

Oliver let himself soak it all in, sitting there as he digested the word. He looked at Kara, at the fierce determination and kindness that shone brightly in them. She jumped up, smiling at him. "Now that that's all out of the way, let's eat!"

God, he missed her. Because no matter what, she always knew him best. She knew how to open him up, make him laugh, make him feel something, and then knew when to draw the line and move on. Even after all this time, she still knew him.

He stood up, as everyone laughed and migrated to the table. He wanted to believe them, he truly did, but he wasn't sure he could.

One thing he was sure of, is that he would do his best to try. He owed them all that much.

* * *

_Water dripped from the leak in the ceiling, the rhythmic pattern of the droplets crashing on the ground the only sound in the dingy building. A young man stood, staring at his reflection in a mirror. His blonde hair ran long, it wouldn't be long before it reached his shoulders. His beard was growing out, too._

_ The green leather suit he wore hugged his skin, the warmth welcome from the cold of his current conditions. His eyes ran over his face, seeing just how much he'd changed since he first left home. Oliver Queen was dead, at least the Oliver Queen he was._

_ "Hurry the hell up, kid," A raspy Australian voice woke him up from his thoughts, and he shook his head._

_ "Shut up, Slade," he replied, dipping his fingers into the green paint he had. He then smudged it over his eyes, in an attempt to conceal his identity without hindering visibility. It was also an intimidation tactic. He pulled the hood from his outfit over his head, and stepped out of the bathroom. Oliver Queen was tucked away in the back of his mind, he was the Kapiushon now. _

Despite the rocky beginning, Oliver found himself actually enjoying the dinner. It was warm and inviting, and best of all was nobody really asked him anything other than mundane stuff. He had shared enough, so they just let him enjoy the stories and pitch in when he wanted it.

He didn't share many stories, a few tales of holidays with his family or adventures with Tommy, but mostly he listened. Heard stories about Alex as a kid, the misadventures they got up to when Kara showed up, and what she had been up to recently.

Oliver was happy for her. Truly, he was happy she'd managed to make her way to a good place, find a fit. Didn't make her leaving any less of a painful memory, but he was happy it worked out for the best.

"I wasn't that drunk!" Kara defended, but Alex just shook her head with a smirk.

"Oh really? Cause the first thing you said to me when I found you was, and I quote," Alex suddenly made a face, imitating drunk Kara. 'Hey, you look just like my sister.' And then proceeded to repeatedly pronounce chocolate syllable by syllable to prove you weren't slurring your words."

Everyone at the table laughed, and Kara blushed lightly. "Well, that was the last time I ever got that bad. The headache I had was killer."

"For my best friends' birthday, we filled a pool with beer," Oliver commented dryly, and he looked at all the gaping mouths of the people at the table, and he smirked. "Wasn't a small pool either."

"Jeez, that's…actually remarkably in character for you," Kara chuckled, before her amusement turned to confusion. "So, were you supposed to drink the pool beer? Swim in it?"

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't remember much else about that night, to be honest. It was just a stupid rich kid brain child, there wasn't much thought behind it."

She laughed, and he smiled. Their eyes met, and Oliver's heartbeat elevated again, only slightly.

"Well," Diggle said, breaking through the comfortable silence that had made its way over the table. "It's getting late. Thank you for everything, Mr. and Mrs. Danvers." He got up, shaking their hands and Alex's. When he approaches Kara to shake her head, the blonde springs hug on him, and he chuckles in surprise before hugging back.

"Sorry," she blushed quietly. "I like hugs."

Oliver shook his head, before standing up too. "I should get going, as well. Thank you for everything," he smiles in appreciation.

"Anytime, you two," Jeremiah gave them a warm smile as he walked them out of the kitchen. "You two are always welcome here."

Oliver nodded. "See you tomorrow, Alex," Oliver said and turned to leave when Kara ran up, hugging him.

She then reached into her pocket, handing him her phone. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, Ollie," she looked him in the eyes with a sympathetic smile. "Don't be a stranger." He took the phone, putting his number in it.

"We'll talk soon, maybe get dinner to catch up one night," he offered, and she nodded fervently.

"Definitely. Goodnight, Olive," She smiled as he turned and walked out, walking with Diggle to their vehicle.

"Thank you," He quietly whispered to Diggle as they were in the elevator.

"Man, of course. You trusted me, and I take that seriously. I still think you need to find a way to talk about what happened in Russia, but it's not my secret to tell it's yours. You're my brother, I got your back man. Always."

Oliver shook his hand, giving him a bro hug as they separated. Oliver got on his bike, putting his helmet on and revving the engine before darting off, heading to his small apartment. The air rushed through his head and body, as his minded drifted.

_The thwang of an arrow being shot by a bow rang out, screaming in his ear as he went back into cover. They were surrounded, the three of them trapped in a hangar, their only way out being a plane they weren't even sure would fly._

* * *

_ It wasn't supposed to be like this, he complained to himself as he shot another arrow into the throat of a Bratva thug that got too close. Him and Slade sat side by side, surrounded by enemy guns with one possible route of escape. Part of him wished this was more foreign, more uncomfortable, but this is how it was for the two killers turned brothers. _

_ "Good news," the voice of John Diggle rang out over the gunfire. "It'll fly. Bad news is, no way I can guarantee enough time on the runway safely with this many guns on us."_

_ Slade cursed, as Oliver scanned for a new plan. He spotted a truck with a mounted gun on the back. "Slade, see that truck?"  
_

_Slade looked around before nodding, seeing Oliver's plan. "I see it, kid," He rasped out. "And your plan is suicide!"  
_

_"You got a better one?" Oliver snarked back, standing up and shooting an arrow into a thugs throat. "This is the best chance we got. Diggle, get it moving! Slade and I will cover you!" And with that, they ran to the truck. Slade hopped into the driver's seat while Oliver got on the gun. _

_ The plane raced out of the hangar, truck following just behind. Oliver maintained a constant rate of fire, shooting at all the Russians who chased after them. The gun shook violently in his hands, controls even starting to burn, but he didn't care. He was done, done with the Bratva, done being their puppet, done being the monster they made him. He needed to be out, or die trying. Something he and Slade both agreed on._

_ "Almost ready for takeoff," Diggle called off, as the truck had basically made its way next to the door to the plane, which sat wide open. "Get onboard, now!"  
_

_Nothing needing to be said, Oliver leapt from the truck into the passenger seat of the plane. He turned, looking at Slade. Two Russian trucks with guns were tailing them, practically right behind them. And Oliver looked into Slades eyes and saw his mentor, his brother, make a choice. _

_ "Get out of here, kid," Slade called out. "Go, and live! We said we'd leave here as brothers. I leave in your memory, so live, kid. Don't let this be for nothing."_

_ With that, Slade slowed the truck down so he was on the far side of both trucks, before crashing into one. He pushed one into the other, and all three truck exploded in a massive mushroom of fire and smoke.  
_

_"SLADE, NO!" He called out, a few tears streaming down his face. Diggle shot him a sympathetic look, before the plane took off._

* * *

_ I'm sorry Slade,_ he thought to himself. Until now, he hadn't been honoring his best friends last request. Sure, he had survived. But this wasn't living. This wasn't a life, it was purgatory. He was stuck in a loop, atoning for his sins and his mistakes.

Well, now seemed as good a time as any to give this living thing a try. For Slade, for Robert, for Kara.

* * *

**There we go! Oliver's new backstory here is finally coming out bit by bit, and I hope it seems interesting! Please keep up the reviews, they help a lot!**


	4. Chapter 4

** Hello! The feedback of this story has been awesome and it has meant so much to me, so keep it up! Don't forget to leave a review, any feedback at all helps a lot!**

* * *

_The pounding in his skull was what woke him up, and with a groan he slowly started to stir. It felt like someone was using his brain as a drum, it was killer_

_ You'd think he'd be used to a hangover after drinking every day for half a year, but guess not._

_ He took a second, trying to look around and figure out where he was and what was going on. He was in the same bar in Russia he spent that night partying at, he knew that much. This wasn't the first time he woke up at a bar, but something about this situation felt…unsettling. _

_ "Ahh, American, you have finally awoken," A Russian voice sounded out, and Oliver looked up to see the bartender from last night, an older Russian with dark hair with splashes of gray and a beard looked at him. "We can discuss a little…financial troubles, regarding last night's tab."_

_ "Just put it on my card," Oliver shook his head, trying to shake the hangover out of his skull. He reached into his jeans pocket, feeling for his wallet. It wasn't there. He looked around, trying to find the old beaten brown leather wallet._

_ "You see, we tried that," the Russian countered, sitting on the small table in front of the American. "We tried all of your cards. It seems you are out of money, Mr. Queen."_

_ Oliver stared at the man in shock. No way, that couldn't be possible. He had millions in that fund, how could he have…? His confusion turned to terror, spreading through his body like a wild fire. What was he gonna do? He looked around, trying to find a way out. At every door stood at least two giant Russian men in suits._

_ "If you were planning on leaving without paying, don't. I would hate to have to hurt you, you can handle your vodka like a true Russian. No, I have a way for you to clear your debts. I have some…work that me and my associates need done. You accomplish these tasks, and your debt is paid. Agreed?"_

_ Oliver was stunned. "I…I've never worked a day in my life," he conceded, the fear in the forefront of his tone. Oh, god, Ollie, just shut up…_

_ The Russian man laughed, shaking his head. "This is fine. It's not like any American job could prepare you for the work we shall be asking. You will, as the Americans say, get the hang of it. Now, get up, there is much to be done."_

_ "Who are you?" Oliver questions, dragging himself to his feet. _

_ "Anatoly Kynazev," He flashed Oliver a grin, offering his hand to shake. Reluctantly, Oliver shook that hand. Not realizing he was making a deal with the devil._

* * *

His feet hit the pavement, in time with the ragged breathing in his chest. The early morning air had a chill to it, sticking the hair on his arms straight up. He could feel the ache of exhaustion in his bones, but he kept running.

This was his morning routine. Wake up at 5:30, run for an hour at 6, get a coffee, go home, get dressed, go to work early. Oliver had quickly become a man of routine since freeing himself from the Bratva, finding a comfort in the repetition. It reminded him of archery, how he could do it now as a reflex. It required no thought, minimal effort, and it helped take his mind off the world.

It had been three days since he had reconnected with Kara, and there hadn't been a day that passed that they weren't in contact. It started with her texting him, her first text being "hey it's Kara" followed by a string of smiley face emojis. They never talked about anything serious, just how each other's days went and other friendly small talk. She also resumed her old habit of sending him random funny videos from the internet, most of them featuring cats or other animals.

He felt the familiar buzz of his phone as he finally stopped running, pulling it out to see a text from Kara.

_**Gooooood mornin! **_She had texted, and he smiled.

_**Kara Danvers, up before noon? No way, **_he replied, heading into his coffee shop.

An angry face emoji and one with its tongue sticking out had been her reply, but the little stilly typing bubble was still there so he waited and ordered his coffee.

_**Wanna get dinner 2nite? Catch up?**_

He stared at his phone at that, raising an eyebrow. That was fast. He smirked, pressing the buttons on his phone's keyboard before he really thought about.

_**Sure, still obsessed with Chinese food?**_

_** Pot stickers r the bestest food in the universe, this is known, **_was her reply, and he couldn't shake the grin on his features as he read it.

_**Fair enough**_

_** Be at Wu's House at 6, see ya later!**_

He put his phone back in his pocket as he arrived back in his apartment. The place was small, nothing like the extravagant mansion he grew up in but also not the run down apartment in Russia he and Slade shared. He kept it furnished, but only the essentials. No decorations or pictures hung anywhere, the most unique part of the place was the unique and ornate bow hanging on his wall over his bed.

The only reminder of the Kapiushon, of his time in Russia, that he held on to. He wasn't sure why, it just felt like he needed to hold onto it. As a reminder.

After a quick shower Oliver was out the door, heading to the ARGUS base in the city. He got on his bike, putting his helmet on as he burst away from his parking spot in front of his building.

_"On the line," Anatoly's voice called out, and Oliver and the four other recruits stepped onto a blue line on the floor. "Your task is simple, ring that bell."_

_ Three big Russian men in track suits, the most stereotypical mobsters you could imagine, stood in the way of a bell. They each wore hoods on and masks over their eyes. Oliver smirked. Seemed easy enough._

_ The test began, the guy on the furthest right running first. He was immediately knocked down by a gangster with a brutal punch in the face. Oliver ran next, hoping to catch them off guard. The only thing he caught was a punch in the gut. His breath hitched in his throat as he got the wind knocked out of him. He fell onto his back, curling up to protect himself as the gangster pulled out a night stick and beat on him with it._

* * *

_ "Up!" A different Russian called out, and Oliver slowly dragged himself to his feet. "On the line." _

Oliver pulled up to the entrance gate, showing his ID to the man at security as he took off his helmet. The gate opened, and Oliver sped in before parking. As usual, he was the third one there, only just beaten by the two co-directors of ARGUS, Hank Henshaw and Amanda Waller.

He entered the building, heading straight for the training room. He only came in this early to get a half hour or so of intense training on his own in, mostly due to the privacy (but also because he didn't feel like paying for a gym membership.)

His eyes darted to the training dummy, and he stepped up to it. Immediately, he began practicing his martial arts and combat skills, expertly attacking the dummy with precise and powerful strikes, putting all his anger and stress and other excess emotions into his fists. It was the only sound in the room, the sound of him hammering away at the training dummy with vicious efficiency. No punch was wasted, no energy wasn't channeled into a strike that didn't go exactly where he wanted it to go.

Oliver Queen was an artist, and violence was his medium.

_Every muscle in his body was screaming. He could feel the bruises forming on his skin, big and painful and throbbing. His shirt was stuck to his skin from sweat and the dampness of the floor he so frequently found his body thrown down onto._

_ This wasn't working. None of them could get passed these guards, none of them were fast enough to get that stupid bell._

_ None of them alone…_

_ "Psst," he whispered to the three other recruits. "We can't get passed them by ourselves. If we lure them to the left, we got a chance to sneak by. Together."_

_ They all nodded, and soon the plan went into effect. They all rushed one direction, left, and the men guarding rushed them. The recruits fought the guards, buying Oliver time to rush at the bell. He ran as fast as he could, sidestepping the outstretched foot of one of the guards trying to trip him. One of the guards had managed to knock down a recruit, and stepped back to get in Oliver's way. Oliver went low, sliding past the man and punching him once in the kidneys. With that momentary distraction he leapt at the bell, slapping it with his hands. _

_ The bell rang out, the only sound in the now deadly silent basement. Breathing heavy, Oliver allowed himself a smirk before he turned around. Suddenly the silence was broken by bullets, as the Bratva guards shot the other three recruits. Oliver looked on in horror as Anatoly walked up to him. "Congratulations, Oliver Queen. Welcome to the Bratva."_

* * *

"How did I know I'd find you here?" Alex asked him, and he smirked as he fired off another three quick strikes at the dummy.

"Maybe cause I'm here every morning?" he replied, striking three more times before turning to face her.

She chuckled, stretching out and dropping her leather jacket on a table. "Up for a spar? Could use the stress release myself."  
He raised an eyebrow, still smirking. "Oh? Feel like getting your ass kicked to start your day."

"Oh, is that so?" she raised her eyebrows and let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, let's see what you've got tough guy."

The two agents got into a fighting stance, circling each other. Oliver stood, waiting. Alex was hot headed; she'd make the first move. She always did.

As he predicted, she moved first. She rushed him, lifting her left leg to fire off a quick kick to his hip. He blocked it with his left hand, spinning and going to sweep the leg that remained on the ground. He made contact, knocking her off balance but she was quick to recover. She turned the fall into a backwards roll, landing on her feat in a crouch before lunging forward for an elbow strike.

She was on the offensive, Oliver having to back up to defend himself from the onslaught of strikes. She overcommitted with a punch, an attempt to end the fight quick, and Oliver was ready.

He ducked under the punch, stepping forward and slamming his elbow into her back. He followed up with a quick left jab to her side and then used his right foot to kick behind her knee, sending her right leg buckling to the ground. She spun, striking out with arm to attempt to create some distance, but Oliver pushed her strike aside with his right hand before jabbing her across the face with his left. He lunged forward, sending his knee crashing into her chest to knock her to the ground, and held his hand in a knife edge chop over her throat.

"I win," he smirked, before changing the position of his hand to help her up.

"I don't get how you're so good at this stuff," she complained, taking his hand. He pulled her up and she dusted herself off, rubbing her jaw.

"Years," he replied as he grabbed a towel and tossed Alex one to wipe off all the sweat.

"Well, I'm still smarter than you," she commented as she caught it.

"I had a C average in high school and never went to college, that's not an accomplishment."

"Still counts," She bragged mockingly as she walked out of the room. Oliver shook his head before leaving the training room as well.

* * *

_The sound of wood clacking against wood was the only noise in the dank basement, a rhythmic sound as the two fighters worked at the exact same speed. Oliver was laser focused, blocking and striking as fast as he physically could to get an advantage over his opponent._

_ Suddenly, his opponent varied his speed, catching Oliver off guard with a strike right across his face. He fell, holding his face and glaring. "What the hell?!"_

_ "Kid, I know girl scouts with more fight in them than you. How did you even get passed the first test?"_

_ "Fighting girl scouts now Slade?" Oliver questioned dryly, smirking as he stood up. Slade, however, was not amused, whacking his hand with his own stick. Oliver groaned, opening his mouth to say something before immediately shutting it._

_ "Kid, they gave me ten days to make you useful to 'em. If I don't, you're dead, and probably me too. So, start taking it seriously. Get up, again."_

_ Oliver growled, anger taking over as he lashed out with a strike with his stick. Slade blocked it, pivoting and striking Oliver across the face yet again._

_ "What is the point of this?!" he couldn't help the anger from lashing out anymore. "It's not like I'm gonna be out there fighting rival gangsters with sticks! They'll have guns! What do I do if one of them shoves a gun in my face, huh? Threaten him with my stick?!"_

_ Slade glared at him, a harsh and intense gaze that immediately wiped any amount of courage out of Oliver. He started to shrink back when Slade pulled out a gun. "Jam this in my face. NOW!"_

_ Oliver took it, raising it to Slade's face. The exact second he moved his arm Slade struck, grabbing his arm and pulling it forward. Slade spun, elbowing Oliver in the back before flipping him onto the ground with his other hand. _

_ Stunned, Oliver laid on the ground for a minute. He looked up to see Slade, pointing a gun at him. His hands rose up, in a gesture of surrender. "I give up! I give up…" Oliver said, shaking his head. He wasn't cut out for this, anyway. He needed to just leave…_

_ Slade growled, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up off the ground. "There is no giving up to these guys! No crying, or buying your way out of it! You are dealing with the Bratva, not a game of paintball with your frat boy buddies kid! You have two choices: live, or die. So choose!"_

_ Oliver looked into the mans eyes, as he finally started to understand the gravity of what he was dealing with. With all the courage he could muster he replied "Live."_

_ "Then let me show you how not to die."_

* * *

__Slade's training is what made him who he was today. The man was brutal, efficient, and uncaring. He thought attachments made one weak, yet the two got attached anyway. A bond forged in fire, they came out the other end as brothers in arms.

Oliver stepped into the main briefing room of the base for the daily meeting, shaking his thoughts of Slade out of his head.

"First, let me say good work on the Triad investigation. We've got them on the run, all of our sources say we've got them scrambling. Apparently they're locking down into hiding until the heat dies down. So, we let the heat die down. Co-director Waller and I have been talking, and it's decided that, effective immediately, you all have until January 2nd off. Keep your ARGUS phone with you at all times in case of an emergency, but enjoy the holidays people. Good work."

Director Henshaw had finished speaking, and nobody reacted. They weren't used to this, and everyone was stunned.

Slowly, the frozen staff started celebrating as they all made their way to their desks to get their stuff and go enjoy a holiday break.

"Well this is good news," Alex commented to Oliver and Diggle as they made their way out of the base. "A well earned break."

"Lyla'll be happy," Dig commented as he smiled. "More time for me to spend with the family is never a bad thing. I'm serious about that offer, Oliver, our door's always open for you."

"Thanks man," Oliver smiled at the man.

"Speaking of Oliver, you can get ready extra early for your date tonight." Alex said with a wink.

"It's not a date," Oliver defended. "It's two old friends catching up over dinner."

"Uh huh, of course it is," Alex crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm serious. It isn't a date."

"Whatever you say," she said as she shook her head. "Well, insert obligatory if you hurt her they'll never find your body speech here. But, she could do a lot worse." And with that, she was gone.

"She's got a point, man," Digg commented. "I saw how you two looked at each other. That's the closest I've ever seen to you being happy. And you deserve to be happy, no matter how much you don't believe it."

Digg left, too, leaving Oliver a lot to think about.

Kara deserved better than him. So much better. Even before Russia, she was better than he was. He was a jerk, selfish and rude and unable to care about anyone who wasn't Oliver Queen. She was the best part of those days, the best part of him. He was only the guy he wanted to be when she was there, something about her made him try so desperately to be someone she'd be proud of.

He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want to corrupt her with his…him. But, at the same time, he didn't want to lose her again. Didn't think he could handle it. So, begrudgingly, he went home, to get ready for dinner.

* * *

**Here you go! Let me know if I'm overdoing the flashbacks, I feel like I might be! Next chapter is the dinner! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Wow, this was a bit more challenging than I anticipated. I have been so amazed by all the feedback I have received, so shoutout to all the reviews I have gotten! Please enjoy, and keep up the reviews they help so much!**

* * *

Oliver was practically shaking he was so nervous. Ask him to stare down a room full of armed gunmen armed with only a bow and arrow? No problem. Take on multiple organized crime organizations? Easy.

Have a conversation with a person he hurt, who he still cared about? Absolutely terrifying. What did he talk about? What COULD he talk about? How much of what's happened is he willing to share, if any? If he can't what does he say?  
A plan was forming in his mind, a way to get her talking about her to avoid talking about him. He hated it, how he had to gameplan on how to talk to another human being. That he wasn't strong enough to talk about himself, that the words catch in his throat like there's a filter there, and any time he tries it gets trapped inside and begins to close his throat out, choking him from the inside.

The cold water splashed against his face, shutting off his thoughts as he basked in it. He shook his head, stepping out of the shower. He took a second to look up in the mirror. Despite only being 23, his face looked older. Lines from age and stress were visible, only barely covered by the beard that was growing way longer than he normally kept it. His hair, too, was a bit longer than he normally let it grow, but he let it slide.

His eyes drifted down to his chest, littered with scars. Evidence of torture, blade wounds, bullet wounds, lines and bumps and grooves that covered a decent portion of his chest. He stared at that tattoo on his left pectoral, the eight-sided star of the Bratva. The tattoo that changed his life, forged him into a weapon.

God, he sounded like a broken record.

"Focus, Oliver," he muttered to himself, leaning against the sink.

It was decided, then. For once in his life, he was going to try his best to leave the baggage at home. He was going to have a nice, fun night out. If not for him, then for Kara. Because she deserved a nice night.

* * *

Kara Danvers was absolutely terrified. It had been forever since she'd been on any kind of date and she wasn't sure what to wear or what they'd talk about because she really didn't want to scare him off but also she just wanted so desperately to help him.

Wait, did she just call this a date? WAS it a date? Because if it was she totally wouldn't complain, not at all. She had always had a crush on him, even when they were growing up, but she never said anything because he was Oliver. Rich, funny, cool, popular Oliver and she didn't want to risk losing him over stupid feelings.

Well, funny how that one worked out. He left anyway. But this time, she was determined. He wasn't getting away again, not without a fight.

She finished getting ready, looking herself in the mirror. Due to National City being in southern California, it didn't get cold, even at this time of year, so there was a freedom to her choice of outfit. She ended up going with something simple, a navy blue sweater over a white blouse and a matching blue skirt as well as comfortable yet stylish wedge shoes. Her hair was done in a half up half down style.

Kara stepped out of her room after finishing up getting ready, met by Alex on the couch watching a movie.

"Have fun on your date tonight," she commented dryly, and Kara shook her head.

"It's not a date! It's just…two friends catching up over food!" she replied, although she was unsure which one of them she was trying to convince.

"God, you two are ridiculous…" she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

"Why? Does he think it's a date? Did he say it was a date?" Kara began to question, nerves beginning to takeover.

"Kara," Alex stood up, looking at her sister with a sympathetic smile. "Relax. Don't push anything, just go with it. So, relax, take a deep breath, and get the heck out of here or you'll be late!"

She laughed, smiling and hugging her sister. "Thanks, Alex, you always know what to say."

"It's my job," she replied with a smirk. "Now shoo!"

* * *

Oliver had managed to get to the place ten minutes early. He liked to get to a location, especially one he'd never been to, earlier than expected, get a lay of the area. It was a small restaurant, a little hole in the wall with only four or five tables in it, all lined up at the front of the store next to the large window at the front. He picked a seat in the corner, picking the seat overlooking the exit.

This was his thing, a thing not many people noticed. He always took care to take the seat with the best vantage point. This spot overlooked everything: he saw the two doors to the back kitchen area and had a clear view of the entrance. The window also provided an escape route should any threats approach.

It was a thought process that kept him alive for years, but also didn't lend itself well to social situations. Truthfully, he was totally out of his element right now. But, he was ready to try. The first step is always the hardest right?

Kara stepped inside, and looked around before spotting him immediately. He sat in the corner, and looked up the second she opened the door and flashed her a small smile. He stood up as she approached, and she could feel her heartbeat quicken as she walked over.

When they were growing up he had never been out of shape, but now? He was built like a tank, it was extremely obvious that he took his physical health very seriously.

They looked at eachother, smiling, before Kara gave him a quick hug. She could feel him tense, but start to relax after a few seconds and slowly reciprocate.

"So, how was work? Alex says you guys got the holidays off?" She asked as they sat down, deciding to try to break the ice with some small talk.

He nodded. "Yeah. Guess we did a better job than they expected."

"That happen often?" Kara raised an eyebrow as she got the attention of a waitress.

"It's never happened period. It's got me wondering if some alien took over the director's body, if I'm honest," he suggested with a smirk as the waitress arrived. "So, we still doing this how we used to?"

She flashed him a smirk, nodding. "It's like you read my mind." With that they ordered. These two had developed a system growing up where they would just order three or four meals and share. They both ate a lot of food, so it seemed to just make the most sense that way. They ordered lo mein, pot stickers, orange chicken, and a large container of fried rice, Oliver ordering in perfect mandarin. The waitress smiled and promised their food would be out shortly.

"Since when did you speak Chinese, Oliver?" Kara questioned as the waitress walked away.

"I've learned a lot of things in my time away. Languages were one of the easier ones."

"How many languages do you speak now?"

"Fluently?" She nodded, and he took a second before replying. "Russian, Spanish, Cantonese, Mandarin, and Arabic."

"Woah!" Kara looked at him with shock and pride. "That's pretty impressive. Have you actually been to all of those places, or just learn the language?"

"Mostly," he said, leaning back in his seat slightly. "I haven't been to China, or any Arabic speaking country, but I have been to pretty much every European country."

"Mr. World Traveler indeed," she quipped. At that, they entered into a few moments of comfortable silence.

"Metropolis University, huh?" Oliver was the first to break the silence. "Pretty far from home. Why there?"

"Two big reasons, really. One: the Daily Planet is there. I want to be a journalist, and the Daily Planet is like the place to be in that field so I thought it'd be the best chance for me to work there. Two: my cousin Clark lives there and I never got to see him much. I thought it would cool to be together and spend some time together again."

Perfect, he thought to himself. Get the conversation off of me and about her. Mission accomplished, he mentally pat himself on the back.

Kara then began talking about her experiences there, her friends Iris and Winn and Clark and Lois, explained her plans as she finally graduates this year, and other odd stories about her life. And Oliver just listened, asking questions or responding when appropriate, but mostly he just let her talk. It made him happy, hearing that someone he cared so strongly for was doing the best she could be, and was happy.

"The Daily Planet told me I have a spot on their roster the second I graduate, but I'm not sure. First off, being so far from my family has been pretty hard on me, to be honest. We're all really close, as you've seen, and I'm not sure I'm ready to work and live so far away from them all yet. And also, I feel like they're just giving me the job because I'm related to the all star reporter Clark Kent. I wanna be my own person, you know?"

"Believe me, I get it. I grew up with a last name that immediately put expectations in people's heads. Oliver Queen, son of CEO Robert Queen. Heir apparent. People's expectations are one thing that just are inevitable, especially when you earn even a small amount of a reputation. But, Kara, you'd be a catch no matter where you end up. Nobody cares what you do to get in the door, all that matters is what you do once you're in."

"Thanks Oliver," she gave him a smile, small yet as warm and genuine as ever. "You ever think about going back? To Starling?"

"Every day," he admitted, looking out the window. He was being honest. He thought about it every day, wondered how Thea was dealing with everything in school, how his mom was doing with the company. At first, he kept tabs, but it hurt too much and soon he stopped looking. "But they won't want me. Not as I am now. Not after running out on them like that."

"Don't be so sure about that, Ollie. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you should go back until you're sure you're ready. But, don't wait just because you're afraid they'll hate you. They would be absolute ecstatic to have you back."

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"Because I am."

There she went again, knowing exactly what to say. He was stunned, unable to find any words to express just how much those three little words just impacted him. She was happy to have him back? That didn't make sense, he provided nothing but darkness and pain. Yet, she was happier he was here anyway.

Could it be possible that they would welcome him back too? Mom and Thea and Tommy, maybe they didn't hate him.

As he opened his mouth to speak, their food finally arrived at their table.

"Oh, thank god," Kara sighed pleasantly, immediately grabbing at the pot stickers and digging in.

He laughed. She hadn't changed a bit.

* * *

Their dinner was going extremely well. There were minimal uncomfortable moments, even the few times they drifted to silence, the food was fantastic, and they had laughed so much her abs had started to hurt.

"So Barry, frantic and more than a little drunk, practically sprints over to the kitchen to grab some paper towels, but in the process he knocked over Mon-Els glass and spilled it all over him. And mine and Lena's couch. Our room smelled like booze for like a week after that."

Oliver let out a light laugh, shaking his head. "You have an interesting group of friends, Kara. Who's Mon-El, and what kind of name even is that?"

Kara's smile dipped at that, the memory of her ex not being a pleasant one. "My ex boyfriend. His real name is Mike, he went to Gotham U, which was our rival. He was a huge partier, a rich kid, kinda like you were back in the day, and had no idea how to do anything. It was like he was from a different planet, he was so helpless, so we called him an alien sounding name. It stuck."

Oliver's face soured the second ex-boyfriend came out of her mouth, and she saw his fist clench and unclench. "Wanna talk about what happened between you two? You don't have to."

"Not much to tell. Despite him being a total jerk, he charmed me. He was funny, like really funny, and he had his sweet moments. Apparently, it was all an act, cause I caught him sleeping with a girl in my journalism class. In my apartment."

"Is he still breathing?" Oliver's reply came instantly, and Kara almost choked on her next bite of lo mein in surprise before chuckling.

"Alex has dibs on killing him, said so herself."

Oliver nodded at that, his anger slightly losing grip. She could see his face softening, and she smiled. "So, how did you manage to end up in Russia with no money? You spent your entire trust fund?"

"A lot of drinking, partying, and being a gullible tourist travelling a continent he barely understood," Oliver once again brought his eyes out the window. "Ending up with no money in Russia is no joke, either. I had to get involved with some…bad people, just to survive. Do bad things."

Kara mentally cursed herself for bringing it up. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable and now she totally did. "I'm so sorry, I…"

He rose his hand, signaling for her to stop apologizing. "No, it's okay. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me, Kara. I can handle it. For such a long time, I lived my life day to day, trying to just survive. Everyone I didn't know was a threat, I could never really trust someone. When you live that way for so long, you don't see people as people. You see threats, or targets. And I didn't know how to turn that part of me off. And then you walked into the door at that dinner. You're the first person in so long I've been able to see as a person."

Kara was moved, tears forming in her eyes. She reached across the table, gently putting her hand on his. "Do you remember, the day I turned ten? Mom and dad were on a business trip and couldn't be there for my birthday, and my aunt was too busy to plan anything? I told you that and you said I'm sorry. And then, you had this look in your eyes for a week. This determined look, but you wouldn't tell me what for. Then, my birthday came, and you invited me over. I walked in, and you, by yourself, had organized this amazing surprise party for me, themed after my favorite tv show. It had a bouncy castle, a slide, the whole nine yards. Everyone was there, it was one of the best birthdays I ever had."

His expression changed, from one of distant sorrow to a gentle grin at the memory. "Well, mom and dad get most of the credit. They paid for all of it. I asked and they said 'you organize it, pick everything you want and make it all work and then you come back and we'll handle it.' All I did was google stuff and find out prices."  
"You see, there you go again, being way too humble. You were twelve, and yet you single handedly organized a party for a friend just because it was a nice thing to do. Sure you didn't pay, but it isn't about that. It's about you giving your kindness to a little girl who felt alone on one of the most important days of her life."

She could tell her words were moving. She gave herself a mental high five, as she watched him. He seemed to almost be relaxed, like those walls he hid behind were finally coming down, even just a bit.

"Excuse me," One of the waitresses walked up. "I'm sorry to do this, but we are closing in a few minutes. Please do come back soon, and happy holidays."

They looked eachother in shock, before checking their phones. They had been there for almost three hours. Sheepishly, Kara apologized, reaching for her wallet to pay for the meal when Oliver stopped her.

"No, I'm paying," he replied casually, handing the waitress a card.

"Oliver, this was a forty dollar meal! I can't accept you paying the whole…"

"Kara, I've got it. Don't worry about it, it's not a big deal."

"It is to me, Oliver," she replied, and he put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

"Next time, you got it. Deal?"

She looked up at him, nodding. "That's fair."

Deep down, she knew it wasn't worth fighting over. But something inside her still didn't like it, someone else paying for her and not letting her help. It was a mix of guilt and helplessness. She didn't like to feel like a burden, but more so she hated the idea that she had to rely on a guy to take care of her. She was strong, independent, working on a potentially very successful journalism career, she didn't need someone else's money to take care of her.

It was a nice gesture, she reminded herself. Nothing more. It's Oliver, he's always been like this.

* * *

After Oliver got his card back and signed the receipt, they were off. It wasn't a far walk back to Kara's apartment, and both of them felt like enjoying the beautiful night air. At least, that's what he told himself. In truth, he just didn't want the night to be over. It had been absolutely perfect, and he really wished it could last forever.

They walked mostly in silence, enjoying the company. The night air was cool, a gentle breeze blowing. The sky was clear, a few scattered stars in the night sky that broke through the haze of light pollution that surrounded most cities. Eventually, they made it back to her apartment.

He took a second to look at her, really look at her, and realized just how beautiful she looked tonight. She had this effortless sort of beauty, like she looked better than anyone else in the room without even trying. Her hair was this deep gold, like rays of sunlight or sunflowers, that really brought out her eyes. He could get lost in those eyes, in fact he often did, even growing up. His thoughts went back to their first kiss, all those years ago when they had no chance to do anything about it.

All of a sudden, he was aware of the space between them. Or lack thereof. Slowly, they had been inching closer to eachother until now he could feel her breath on his skin, hear her breathing. Their eyes closed, inching closer and closer.

A loud car horn blasted out into the mostly quiet night, startling both of them and they rushed to separate to a respectful distance. They chuckled, the mood all of a sudden turning violently awkward.

"Well, I should probably go upstairs. Uh, thanks for the awesome night Oliver."

"You too, Kara. Goodnight," He smiled, turning around to leave when she called out.

"And, Oliver? If you decide to go back to Starling, I'll be right there with you. If you want me to."

He looked up at her, the biggest smile he'd had in a long time, and nodded. "Be careful, I may just take you up on that. Goodnight, Kara."

And he meant it. He really did have a lot to think about.


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter was a fine example of when a plan goes out the window when the chapter just travels in a direction I hadn't planned. I wanted this to be the family reunion chapter, but this one got long and I wanted to make sure Oliver reuniting with his family got as much time as it deserved.**

* * *

Oliver Queen's list of things that made him uncomfortable was not long. He was an assassin, a masked killer for the Bratva, a government secret agent, a certified badass. That didn't make the task he was currently embarking on any less awful.

He really hated flying.

Don't get it twisted, he wasn't afraid of flying per se. It was more of a disdain, a pain, a burning hatred seeded deep in his subconscious. He hated the pressure in his head as his body tried to adjust to the altitude, he hated the cramped space, he hated how no matter how he sat or adjusted he could never quite get comfortable.

Yet, once again due to the influence of Kara Danvers, he was venturing out of his comfort zone. On a plane. Back to Starling City.

That was a whole other demon clawing the way into his mind. So, he ignored it, compartmentalized. First, he would worry about the flight and making sure he had everything and that aspect of his current situation. Only once he touched down would he worry about seeing his family, prepping for their reactions, trying to rehearse what he would say to them.

Kara seemed to sense his discomfort, and from her seat next to him reached over and squeezed his hand gently.

"Nervous to go home?" She questioned with a small, understanding smile.

"No," he replied quickly. "I'm compartmentalizing. I haven't even gotten there in my mind yet."

"Wait," slowly, she began to catch on to exactly why he was nervous. "No way. International badass Oliver Queen is unnerved by airplanes?" She raised an eyebrow as she whispered her accusation, amusement bubbling in her tone.

"I don't get unnerved," he replied with a glare.

"Oh really? Cause the fact that your shoulders are so tense they're about ready to snap, and the twitch thing with your hand says otherwise."

How did she do that? They'd been reconnected for barely over a week and she diagnosed all of his nervous habits. It was kind of unsettling.

Oliver opened his mouth to retort when the plane finally began moving, pulling slowly out of the gate and driving onto the runway.

"You know, according to google you're safer on this plane than you are on your bike," Kara commented, clearly trying to ease his nerves.

"Yeah, that's true, but at least I'm driving the bike. I'm not flying the plane, I'm not in control of it. At least when I'm driving anything bad that happens is on my terms."

"I guess that makes some sense," She conceded with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

Before he knew it, they were off, the plane pulling off the ground and taking to the skies.

* * *

_"I'm done, Anatoly!" Oliver growled out, slamming his glass on the bar. It shattered, the piercing sound echoing throughout the dingy bar. "Kovar is dead, I killed him myself. We had a deal!"_

_ "I know we did, Oliver," Anatoly puts his hands up, clearly frustrated too. But Oliver was too pissed off to care about how he felt. "I want to let you go, believe me. But it is not my decision. The Bratva has decided you and Wilson are still of use, I cannot let you go."  
_

_"Anatoly, you're better than this," Oliver glared at him, staring daggers into the gangster. "If our friendship ever meant anything to you, you're gonna let me go."_

_ "Do not say that. Your friendship has meant a great deal these past two years. But I…I am already on thin ice with the leaders of the Bratva, I can't…"_

_ "You can, and you will. Or I'll put an arrow in you, and find someone who can."_

_ The two men, friends forged by bond and brotherhood, glared at eachother. It was an argument without words, an entire conversation fleshed out only through the looks in their eyes. In the end, Anatoly swore to himself and shook his head. "I am sorry, my friend. I cannot help you."_

_ And with that, Anatoly Knyazev walked away. Oliver howled, letting out a strangled sob of rage and sorrow and defeat. He slammed his fists on the bar, reaching back and swiping all of the bottles of alcohol from the shelf to the ground and letting them all shatter. The room fell silent, save for the sound of his labored breath._

_ It was then that Oliver noticed that the bar was not empty, that he was not alone. In one of the booths in the far corner of the bar sat a man. He stood up, slowly approaching Oliver. As he stepped into the light, Oliver got a good look at him. He was large, a bit taller than Oliver and definitely larger in size. He had dark skin and short hair._

_ "Who the hell are you?" Oliver questioned, reaching for the gun in his back pocket. The man immediately rose his hands in a gesture of peace. _

_ "Woah man, I'm not here to hurt you. I represent an organization that is looking for a man of your skillset. I've been sent here to give you, as well as your partner, a proposal. We can get you out of here, back to the US. Back to freedom."_

_ "What's the catch?" Oliver eyed the man with suspicion and mistrust. No way this came free._

_ The man shook his head. "No catch. You can have a place with us, if you want it. To do good work, catch the bad guys instead of killing for them. But you don't have to. It does us almost as much good to have two dangerous players out of our enemy's hands anyway. And I know you want out, man. I can help you. Or you can stay, working for the monsters who took your freedom away. Your call."_

_ Oliver stared at him, digging into his soul through the man's eyes. Oliver Queen could spot a liar a mile away. He wasn't lying._

_ "I don't trust you," he spat, before sighing. "But I'm desperate. What do I have to do?"_

_ The man smirked. "Good call. John Diggle," he offered his hand to shake._

_ After a few moments of hesitation, Oliver shook it. "Oliver Queen."_

* * *

Oliver woke with a start, as the overhead plane PA came on to announce the descent. Had he fallen asleep for the whole two and a half hours?

A strangely pleasant smell drifted into his nostrils once his head finally caught up with the whole being awake thing. It was a faint citrus scent, looked around to see where it could be coming from when his eyes drifted down. To see a head full of golden locks.

He and Kara had both fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder and his head on top of hers.

Slowly he tried to adjust, trying his best not to wake her as he moved around in an attempt to get more comfortable, but he failed and she slowly opened her eyes and began to stir.

"Oh, jeez, I'm so sorry I guess I just drifted off and I…" she got flustered, cheeks turning a light pink as she scrambled up back to a sitting position.

"Kara," he laughed, shaking his head. "It's fine. It happens. Your head is pretty light so I barely even noticed."

She gasped at him in mock horror. "Are you calling me stupid, Mr. Queen? Is it because I'm blonde?" She tried to pretend she was mad and offended, but she could barely finish the sentence without laughing.

He laughed in response. "You know, I was blonde too?"

"Believe me, I remember. I can't believe nobody had the heart to tell you about how awful that haircut looked on you."  
It was his turn to look mockingly offended. "Really? I thought it looked sexy, Prince charming meets backstreet boy."

They were both giggling at that point, trying desperately to not to be too obnoxious.

"Oh, no I know it's terrible. But it got even worse in Russia, you should have seen it. It was long and unwieldy; at one point it went down to my shoulders. Going shorter was probably the best decision I made since I left. Although it wasn't really my decision."

She rose her eyebrow to question him, and he chuckled and shook his head. "Director Henshaw took one look at me, pointed to my head and said 'THAT is absolutely not going to happen. Shave that mop off.' And here I am."

Their conversation was cut off by the shaking of the cabin as the landing gear made contact with the runway. The friction slowed the plane down quickly, the speeding aircraft slowing to a stop before driving into the gate.

The compartmentalizing thing wasn't working anymore. He was here, now, about to face the consequences of five years of failing the most important job a person had: to be there for their family.

He abandoned them, took his dad away from them and ran away before facing the consequences of it. The next years of his life? They were his penance for his sins, for his failures and faults and all the things he'd give anything to do over, do differently.

His thoughts drifted to Thea, his kid sister, Speedy. She would be nearly an adult by now, eighteen. The age he was when he walked out. He hoped she turned out better than him, didn't end up making the same mistakes he did. He wanted nothing more than for her to be better than him.

A gentle squeeze on his hand and he was back in the real world, and with a grateful nod to Kara for snapping him out of himself he was up out of his seat and grabbing their bags.

Well, time to face the music.

* * *

Travelling through the airport had been surprisingly easy. Oliver had warned her that there was a possibility that the media would figure out he was alive, was coming, and be hounding him. I guess either it didn't get out or he wasn't recognized, because they didn't end up having to deal with any visible photographers.

She put that one up in the win column, a depressingly low score when it came to her luck with things in her life.

They headed over to the car rental place, picking up the vehicle that Oliver had thought ahead enough to rent for the day in advance. He figured asking for a cab to Queen Mansion wouldn't exactly work.

Before long they were out on the road, heading into the city. Oliver had wanted to take his time, he wasn't overly desperate to have this confrontation. She got it, really. It wasn't going to be easy, not by a longshot.

But he was taking a risk, pushing himself to move on from the horrors he survived and trying to get his life back. And she couldn't be prouder of him.

Her eyes drifted out the window, watching the city she grew up in come into view. It was like a snapshot from her memories coming back to life, so much had changed and yet it still looked the same.

There was a light snow on the ground, probably two or three inches. It was like a white blanket, laying like a sheet over the city. It was just as bustling as she remembered, cars rushing about and people on the streets going about their lives.

Decorations were squeezed in everywhere they could, lights hanging over doorways or little flower pots sitting on both sides of an entryway. It was little things like that that made this season her favorite. The world felt like it cared about other people, there was this giant bubble of happiness that just didn't pop until well after the holiday in question actually passed.

"You are being uncharacteristically quiet," Oliver commented, and she was shaken from her musing to look at him.

"Yeah, well this is a weird feeling for me too. I haven't been here since…"

* * *

Since the funeral. The words hadn't been spoken, but he felt them. Felt the burning meaning they held, the pain they came with. Kara looked uncomfortable, like she wasn't sure if she should say the words. The air became thick, tense, almost unbearable. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn't. Because he knew what that unsaid final phrase meant.

He missed his own father's funeral.

Another sin to add to the list. Another reason that he was unredeemable. This was a bad idea, an idea that he never should have entertained much less followed through on.

"Oliver, I understand how you're feeling but…"

"Do you?" He snapped, unable to control it any longer. The anger, the pain, his own guilt, it took over. "Do you know what it's like, to be the reason your dad is dead? To have ditched his own funeral because you were too stupid and selfish and emotional to be there for your twelve-year-old sister and recently widowed mother? To leave them and your girlfriend of over a year without saying goodbye? To have to kill people on the orders of Russian gangsters because you ran out of money drinking your life away? Kara, you constantly tell me I'm redeemable, that my family will welcome me back with open arms and that all of that doesn't matter. But how could it not matter when it is the only part of me left? This anger, this pain, this grief, it feels like all I am now. What do I bring to their lives other than pain, a reminder of everything they've lost because of my bad decisions? There's a darkness, deep inside of me, and it's consumed me to the point I don't know how much of Oliver Queen is left."

It sat there. The words were so full of emotion, raw and uncontrolled and so not how he normally operated it shook him. He couldn't take it back, even though he shared far more than he wanted, it was out there. He had lost his father, ran away from his family, failed to save his mentor and brother in arms, and now probably lost the only person he had left. All because he snapped at her for trying to help.

"You're right. I have no idea what you're going through. I don't know what to say to make the pain go away, I don't know the right way to talk about this stuff or get you to open up. I don't know how to make you hand off some of these burdens so you don't have to carry it alone anymore. But I do know this: no matter what happens, no matter what you have done, you are not a monster. You aren't darkness, you aren't your mistakes. Oliver, you were an eighteen-year-old kid who just lost his dad and you made some bad decisions, and you have been living in a self-imposed exile ever since. You say you don't deserve forgiveness. You're wrong, but if I can't convince you of that then change. Make yourself worth it. Earn it, by doing exactly what you're doing here now. Reconnecting, apologizing, and atoning. It's all you can do."

"I don't know how," it was barely above a whisper, a sound choked off and barely even audible.

"The only way most people stop drowning: by reaching your hand out and asking for help. You have carried the weight of all of this by yourself for so long, let us help you. Me and Alex and Digg and your family."

The rest of the ride went in silence, as Oliver sat and thought about what she had said. Kara Danvers was something else, truly. Going to that dinner with Alex's family was the best decision Oliver had made in a long time, he decided.

No matter what happened, no matter the result of today, he was going to try. He was going to right his wrongs, he had to.

Finally, they arrived. He pulled up, parking the car, and walked to the entrance of the mansion.

It hadn't changed a bit. He took in the grounds, the house he grew up in, a cold mask upon his face. He remembered the days he spent here, running around with Thea and Tommy and Kara, playing whatever game they could come up with. He remembered the parties, the events, the little things. It wasn't decorated at all, a fact that broke his heart to see.

Before his father died, they had loved Christmas. The Queen holiday Christmas party was considered by some to be the highlight event of the year. The family turned the place into their own mini North Pole with how much it was typically decorated.

Not this year. He supposed losing half of the family probably didn't put the survivors into the mood for celebrating.

His feet stopped him in front of the entrance and he stood, staring down the big wooden door. He reached his hand to knock, but froze. He could easily turn around, drive back, hop on a plane and fly back to National City and forget this even happened and…

"Oliver," Kara said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You can do this."

He nodded, steeling himself. And then he knocked on the door.

After a few moments, it opened. "I told Mr. Adams I wanted no…Oliver?"

Moira Queen stood in front of him, his name coming out of her mouth in nothing more than a whisper.

"Yeah, mom," he replied, feeling tears forming in his eyes. "It's me. I'm…I'm sorry. And I'm home."

* * *

**Shorter than I had intended it, but this chapter was more just set up for the next chapter, which will be deep! Keep on leaving reviews, they are so helpful. I appreciate all feedback, and also don't hesitate to reach out with questions or ideas! I hope everyone has a happy holiday season!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow, this one was hard. I hope I did this reunion justice. I am sorry it took so long, between the holidays and just the nature of the chapter I struggled to find the time. Please enjoy, and leave feedback or thoughts in the reviews! I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays.**

* * *

There was a tension in the air, a sudden thickness that developed the second the words left his mouth. He just stood there, eyes locked on his mothers as she digested what was happening.

No one knew what to say, what to do, so no one reacted. It was no more than a minute, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity of Moira Queen staring into his soul, all the pain and loss flooding into him through the gaze of one of the two people he hurt the most.

Then, she lunged forward and grabbed him in a hug almost as fierce as one of Kara's (which is impressive.) They stood in the doorway, tears flowing down from her eyes and onto his shirt as they held eachother.

"Come in," she said through the tears as they broke. "Sit down. My boy, I have missed you so much. We…we have some catching up to do."

He nodded, stepping into the house. The house he grew up in. It was just like he left it, the same wood floors and walls, the same table full of pictures at the entrance. He smiled a small smile.

"I should go," Kara said quietly, turning towards the door. "You guys deserve some time to catch up, I'll just—"

"No," his reply came almost instantly as he looked her in the eyes. He silently pleaded she stayed, hoping his eyes conveyed just how desperately he needed her help with this. He wasn't sure he could do this on his own.

It seemed his mother understood. "Absolute not, dear. You have always been a part of this family, and you brought my son home to me. You deserve to be here, too, so stay. Sit."

"Mom, who's there?" A voice called out, a voice he would recognize anywhere. She sounded older, of course, but he still knew it. It was his sister, Thea.

Any doubt of that was erased from his mind when she came in. She had truly grown up, having gotten much taller. She had grown beautiful, tall and thin with curly brown hair that went to her shoulders. She stopped dead in her tracks at the stop of the stairs, Oliver having absentmindedly drifted to the bottom of them, and they locked eyes.

"Hey speedy," he mumbled, and she tentatively walked towards him.

"No, no this can't be happening," she stopped right in front of him, face running through a myriad of different emotions. "Where did you go? Why did you leave me, leave us Ollie?! We thought you were dead! And now, out of nowhere, you come waltzing in with a hey speedy and think that everything is gonna be fine? Well, it isn't."

"Thea, please give me a chance to—" Oliver began, but she was already walking away.

"To what? Abandon us again? No thanks."

Oliver stood still, rigid and tense. He had been expecting this, expected that she would be angry. But, actually hearing it? It was worse than any bullet wound, any blade, anything he'd ever experienced.

And he deserved all of it.

It was the slamming of the front door that brought him back to the real world.

"Oliver, I'm sorry," Moira tried to comfort him. "You leaving, Robert passing…she took it hard."

"I understand. Really," he turned to look at his mother, who was looking at him with that typical Moira Queen look of concern that always got to him. "I deserved that. She deserves to hate me. So do you."

"Never," her reply was instant, as were the arms wrapped around him. "Oliver, you are my son. All I feel, all I want, is to understand. What happened? Why didn't you say anything? Where did you go?"

Oliver froze, his hand reflexively twitching, longing for a bow in his hand. It was simpler. He had already planned out what he was going to say, all of what he was going to tell Moira and, more importantly, what he wasn't. But now he was there, in the moment, with those eyes who saw through him every time he lied about stealing cookies and taking the car and breaking into mom and dad's wine collection, and he began to doubt.

"Come, sit down, and let's talk," Moira suggested, bringing them all into the living room area. Oliver and Kara sat next to eachother on one of the couches, with Moira taking the chair next to it.

"Mom, before we start I just…" Oliver began, but his mouth immediately shut. The air had shot out of his lungs like an arrow, flying out so quickly he couldn't refill fast enough, and just like that his ability to speak was neutered. His mouth opened and closed a few more times, but once again the words just wouldn't come out.

A soft presence came around his hand, and he looked down to see Kara's on his. She looked at him and nodded, squeezing gently and giving him a look that said "It will be okay."

"Start slow," Moira suggested with a soft smile. "What have you been doing recently? Do you have a job?"

"Yeah," Oliver replied. "I work for the government, actually. Secret agency."

"Really?" Moira raised an eyebrow, look turning to concern. "How did that happen?"

"I was…in a bad place, when a man named John Diggle found me. Gave me a job, a purpose, and frankly, saved my life. I owe him a lot."

"Is this…agency…how you two reconnected?"

Kara spoke up at that. "Kinda. Oliver works with my sister. Well, adopted sister, but still. It's a bit of a funny story. Alex invited Ollie over to dinner with our family after a mission and we bumped into eachother. That was…two weeks ago I think."

"Well, I always knew in my heart you two would end up together. You're just perfect for eachother, and I like the version of my son you bring out."

Oliver choked on air, and Kara began awkwardly laughing and coughing. "Oh no, we aren't together together. We're just friends. Oliver just wanted some emotional support and invited me and I thought it would be fun to visit and…"

Oliver grinned at her, and Moira gave her a disbelieving look at her excuse. But she didn't press. "Well, regardless, it is good to see you again Kara."

Silence once again took its hold, tense and more than a little awkward. Oliver knew what he had to say, what he had to do, but getting there was harder than he thought and he wasn't sure he could do it. Yes, he could, he told himself. Just say it.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he finally squeezed out, and he could feel a flood forming behind his eyes. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. I'm sorry it took so long. I am sorry, because Dad's death is my fault."

"Oliver," Moira reprimanded firmly, shaking her head. "Your father's death was an accident. That's all."

"He wouldn't have been out on the road if it weren't for me, my stupid ego and selfishness. I'm sorry. That day, when I got the news I just needed to run. It was my fault, and I didn't deserve to be told it wasn't, didn't want to be told that it was okay because it wasn't. So I took off without a word. Went around Europe, drinking my anger and pain and sorrow away. I ended up in Russia, penniless and alone and in debt with some…bad people. Had to bad things just to survive. Mom, I'm not the kid that argued with his dad about alcohol and peed on cops. I'm…something else."

"Why didn't you call us? We could have helped you. Oliver, you are family. I don't care what sins you carry, no matter how unnecessary they are or how you do not need them, it is my job as your mother to help you carry them."

"I couldn't, even if I wanted to. The people I was working for…" he got choked up again, but powered through this time. "But even if I could, I wouldn't have. It was my penance, the price I had to pay for my actions."

"Oliver, you were a child. One who had grown up with an absent father and a mother who coddled you. For my part in that, I am sorry. Robert and I failed you, too. You made a mistake, we're all entitled to those. Even if they hurt others. What matters, what truly matters, is what we do to make amends. And disappearing for five years, letting bad men make you do bad things? That's not amending, that's…Oliver, I never blamed you for your father's death. No one does, other than you. So, you need to forgive yourself. Because we all do."

That was it, the line that broke him. The dam had too much pushing against it, too much pressure and force, and so it fell. The tears flooded out, and he stared down at the table as he tried to get a grip on his emotions again.

Two pairs of arms wrapped around him like a vice, holding him together as he felt the walls he had built fall apart. "How?" his voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

"By doing exactly what you are doing. Coming home, talking to us, letting the people who love you so much help you."

Oliver nodded, his head falling on his mother's shoulders as he allowed himself to cry. To be vulnerable, because he was actually safe. He could be vulnerable; it wasn't a weakness. It was the way he was going to be okay.

* * *

Thea was angry. Livid, was probably a more apt term. She had finally gotten over all of it, or at least she thought she had. She had gotten a job working at a night club, Verdant, and was finally in a manager position. She had an awesome boyfriend, had gotten over a drug addiction, had raised herself because her big brother left and her father died and her mom shut down, she was finally coming into her own.

Then he walked in the door. At first, all she wanted was for him to be okay. To come home. But as time went on that fear and sadness turned to anger. How dare he abandon them? They needed him. She lost her dad and her brother in one day.

It hurt her. So bad. But she finally had felt like she had gotten over it, like her life was hers again.

This was why she was at her boyfriend's door, with no warning, tears running down her face as she banged on the door. Roy Harper had been the best thing that had happened to her since her dad died. They met when he stole her purse, funnily enough, and she tracked him down and they talked and eventually got to know eachother. He helped her to cope with her losses, and even helped her kick her drug addiction.

He came out quickly, and was shocked to see her. "Thea? What's going on? Are you okay?"

"No," her reply was quiet, and she practically jumped into his embrace. He hugged her back almost immediately, holding on to her tightly.

She automatically felt more at ease, melting into his embrace. She was falling apart, and it was nice to have someone to make her feel like maybe she could hold it all together.

They walked into his house, sitting on his couch. She leaned her head on his shoulder as she cuddled up next to him, him wrapping his arm over her shoulders.

"So, talk to me. What's got that expensive mascara dripping?"

"Do you remember the brother I talked about, the one who disappeared?"

"Yeah, Oliver was it?"

"Yeah. I thought he was dead. But guess who showed up today?"

"Really? Thea, that's great. I'm…why isn't that great? You don't seem to think it's a good thing."

"I was just getting over it, Roy! I have a life, I have you, I'm in a good place for the first time in five years. And all of a sudden he comes waltzing in after abandoning us and letting us think he was dead! I needed him, Roy, and he wasn't there, and I am so pissed off because why now?"

"Thea, I don't know. None of us know the answer. There's one guy who does, and he is back for who knows how long. You're angry, I get it. But the only people who can really upset us are the people we care about. You still love your brother. So, hear him out. Ask him what happened, why he left, chew him out for messing up your life by taking off, and see what happens. Worst case scenario? You don't like what he has to say and you're done. Best case? You get your brother back, Thea. We don't all get a second chance with family."

"I don't owe him anything. I don't have to listen to him, I don't owe it to him to let him explain himself."

"You don't, you're right. But you owe it to yourself."

He was right, she knew it. But she needed time. Just a bit, to figure out exactly what to say.

"Can I stay here for bit? Just to figure everything out?"

"You never have to ask," Came Roy's reply. God, how had she gotten so lucky.

* * *

Multiple pictures lined the walls and tables of the Queen Mansion. Oliver, now having taken a break from talking for his own sanity, had decided to look at them. He stopped at a picture of him, Thea, Moira, and Robert at Oliver's high school graduation.

"You know, I barely passed. I had three F's two weeks before I graduated. I was so screwed, and I didn't even care. Because I knew mom and dad would get it settled. A big donation to the school's arts department later and I had a C average. That's the kind of person I was, Kara. A selfish jackass who took advantage of his fortunes instead of dealing with his problems."

"Oliver, you aren't that person anymore. And you weren't as bad as you remember. For every story of you being a jerk, there's one of you listening to me rant about my day or giving Thea an awesome gift or helping Tommy when he got too drunk. You are a person, and people have stories both good and bad. You are just focusing on the bad."

"My good stories ended when you left, if I'm being honest. I became even worse, actually. You brought out the best in me, always have and always will. I like the me that I am when I'm around you."

He turned around, his eyes locking on hers. She was looking at him, with that typical look of both happiness and sympathy with a touch of nervousness. He got closer to her, grabbing her hands in his. Her soft hands fit perfectly in his rough ones, pretty symbolic of their actual relationship.

"Oliver, it goes both ways. Before our friendship, I was alone. I had no friends, my parents were so busy with work we didn't spend much time together, I had no one. And then you asked me if you could borrow a crayon."

"It was red," came out right away. She locked eyes with him again, not hiding her shock that he remembered that specific detail.

"And for once, I felt like maybe, just maybe, it was all gonna be okay. Oliver Queen, when you aren't busy ripping yourself apart for your mistakes, you make people's lives better."

"Not everyone's," he muttered, brain slipping to Slade and Shado. Two people who would have been alive today had it not been for him.

"Newsflash, Ollie, nobody makes everyone's life better."

"You do," the conviction in his voice was strong, and led to a silence.

"Not everyone's. I got a girl fired from the Daily Planet recently…"

Oliver raised his eyebrow. That was surprising.

"Well, it was kinda her own fault but still. She was a fellow intern, a real nasty person, and she didn't like me. At one point, Mr. White didn't want to publish a leak he got, so she tried to share it to a different media outlet. I overheard her, so lied about something she needed to do so she'd leave her computer and printed out proof and handed it to Mr. White. Ended up getting her fired and blacklisted."

"Wow. I didn't know you had that in you, Kara. But I would have done the same thing, to be honest."

"That's what most people said. It still makes me feel like a bad person. Oliver, my point in sharing this is that we all make choices. Some are good, some are bad, some make us feel better and some make us feel worse. But we made them anyway, and if we can't live with that? Then all it will do is eat us alive."

He nodded, staring back down at the picture. She was right, again, and also gave him a lot to think about.

A door opened, shaking him from the torrential downpour of thoughts in his mind, and he turned to be face to face with Thea Queen, his sister. They stared at eachother, no one opening their mouth or breaking the silence.

"Speedy…" he whispered, that all too familiar nickname falling out before he could stop himself.

"Ollie…I'm gonna give you a chance. To explain. You hurt me, a lot, you disappeared when I needed you the most and it was hell. But you're my brother, the same big idiot that took the blame for my stupid stuff and let me run around with him and his friends even when he didn't want me to. So, talk to me, Ollie. What the hell happened? Where did you go? Why did you leave me?"

Her eyes had once again had tears, and Oliver reached out pulling her close to him in a tight hug. This was his sister, his speedy, and he wanted nothing more than to protect her. He had failed at that for five years, and at some of the most important years of her young life. She deserved better, and he was damn sure he'd do everything he could to make up for his failure.

They ended up in the living room again, sitting on the same couch as Oliver once again talked about himself. He talked about Europe, Russia (though he kept the details to a minimum on that front), ARGUS, and how he ended up back here.

"Speedy, I am sorry. What happened to dad…I blame myself, and I needed to leave. I should have said goodbye, should have explained it, but Thea I was overwhelmed and in pain and I didn't want it to be okay, because it wasn't. So I took off. Every day that passed afterwards I thought about you and mom, coming home, or at least calling, but I couldn't."

"Why not, Ollie?" Thea asked. "Did you think we'd be upset? Blame you? Ollie, none of us ever did."

"Because I had to do a lot to survive when I got stuck in Russia. It's not stuff that I'm proud of, but I did it. To make it through, I had to become something else. Something…darker. And to be able to do that I had to chip away little pieces of myself. And those pieces? They were Oliver Queen. I don't know what's left other than the darkness I let in, Speedy, and I don't want my darkness to corrupt you."

"Oliver, what happened to you in Russia?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he replied, shaking his head and looking down to escape her gaze. "I'm just not ready yet. I'm sorry, Speedy."

"Ollie, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows here either. When dad died and you left, mom stopped going out. Stopped speaking, even. The house…it would get so quiet. So, I did anything to get out. Fell into the wrong crowd, got hooked on this drug called Vertigo. Mom started dating again and remarried, Walter Steele, and things got better here. But, Vertigo was still my vice, and it changed me. I was…terrible to them, rude and always in trouble. I was doing my best impression of you, and it showed. My birthday last year they got me a car, a green convertible like I always wanted. I took Vertigo and got behind the wheel, wrapped it around a tree. Almost died, and almost killed someone else. My sentence was light, Laurel of all people pulled some favors. Got community service, and I turned my life around. Well, I still am turning my life around. Ollie, you may think you're some kind of dark monster, but you aren't the only Queen to hurt people."

Oliver felt the tears come before they fell, and he once again wrapped his sister in his embrace, holding tight. "Thea, I am so sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. No matter what, you will always be my sister. And there won't be a day that passes where I won't be there for you when you need it, not anymore. I made that mistake once."

"Ollie, it's okay. You're here now, and I forgive you. Seems we both could take some lessons in dealing with grief, huh?" She let out a light chuckle through the tears, and Oliver laughed a bit as well.

His family didn't hate him. They forgave him, understood, and even if things take some adjusting, they will be okay.

And slowly, even if Oliver wouldn't admit it to anyone, he could feel the weight on his chest lifting.

"Oliver," his mothers voice broke their moment of sibling bonding. "There's something I have to show you. From your father."

* * *

**OOO cliffhanger! I'm sorry, I wanted to include that in this chapter but it was getting long! Please review, they mean a lot!**


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